Lust
by lycanus1
Summary: Tara's everything a man could wish for. Smart. Funny. Spirited. Caring. Gorgeous. And sexy as hell. So why the hell have I left her alone, sleeping in my bed ? Why am I now taking an ice-cold shower at two in the morning ? *Warning: contains slash*


**Title:** Lust  
**Author:** Lycanus  
**Fandom:** Sons of Anarchy  
**Character(s):** Jax; Chibs  
**Rating:** M  
**Type:** angst; friendship  
**Summary: **Tara's everything a man could wish for. Smart. Funny. Spirited. Caring. Gorgeous. And sexy as hell. So why the hell have I left her alone, sleeping in my bed ? Why am I now taking an ice-cold shower at two in the morning ? And why's my body yearning for the touch - the feel - of another brunette ?  
**Comments & Reviews:** positive comments welcomed.  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine. _Never_ will be ... no matter how badly I wish they were. Both Jax and Chibs belong to Kurt Sutter and 20th Century Fox.

**Warning:** _contains slash and strong language._

**_XXXXXXXXX_**

**Lust**

_**Jax's pov:**_

I care for Tara. I truly do. I think the world of her.

Other than Abel, my precious baby boy, she's the one person I care about the most. The local girl done good. The wildchild who became a much respected and caring doctor. An ex-girlfriend, who's now my old lady.

Tara's everything a man could wish for. Smart. Funny. Spirited. Caring. Gorgeous. And sexy as hell.

So why the hell have I left her alone, sleeping in my bed ? Why am I now taking an ice-cold shower at two in the morning ? And why's my body yearning for the touch - the feel - of another brunette ? One I've known well and respected - ever since I was initiated as a member of SAMCRO - yet who's only recently taken over my thoughts ... and my dreams.

Despite having the love of a good woman and the knowledge that she'd be devastated by the discovery that I care for and desire someone else ... someone other than her. I can't help myself. I'm unable to deny my feelings. The lust that I feel whenever I'm in the same room as the object of my affections ... The intense craving I have to caress hair as dark as a raven's wing and streaked with silver. To touch and explore a toned, lithe, sinewy body covered by warm, smooth, inked skin.

The spray does nothing to cool my ardour ... my passion. If anything, it adds another frisson, an intensity to the burning need I have raging within me. As I brace myself against the cold, tiled wall and allow the water to cascade down my naked torso, I close my eyes and imagine a pair of sinewy arms wrapping around my waist, drawing me back to rest flush against a hard, taut frame. I can almost feel bare skin covering mine. Firm lips nuzzling against my throat. Sharp teeth nipping bare flesh before sinking possessively, into the sensitive hollow at the base of my neck.

I moan softly as I'm drawn further into my fantasy. A warm, slick, calloused hand idly drifts down my torso. Blunt nails rake over sensitive skin, swiftly turning the tiny, flickering licks of fire in my loins into an inferno. I feel a hand grasp my hardened length, teasing and tormenting it. Stroking. Pulling. Tugging. Creating much needed - wanted - friction. The hand alternates between feather-light caresses and long, rough strokes. Its thumb grazes the slit at the head of my shaft, smearing drops of pre-cum. The stroking continues until I'm desperately craving release. Dying for it. Then, suddenly it starts to happen. I feel my thighs begin to tremble uncontrollably and my balls draw up and the next thing I know is that I'm cuming harder, faster, stronger and longer than I've ever done before, repeatedly crying out the name of the person responsible for my release ...

Drained of all strength, I sink helplessly down the shower wall. My legs no longer capable of bearing my weight and my breathing's ragged. Shallow. I gasp for breath in short, fast pants. Acutely aware that I've never experienced an orgasm as powerful or as intense in my life. Silently, I remain beneath the spray, my body trembling in the aftermath, temporarily sated, yet longing - yearning - to experience it again. Only next time, for it not to be a dream ... a fantasy ... A figment of my imagination.

I crave for it to be real. I lust for it. Want more. So much more. To hear the husky, Scottish brogue whisper filthy, sweet nothings in my ear as one hand plays with the taut, hard nub of my nipple, the other fondling my cock until it becomes painfully hard once more. I want to feel the graze of his grizzled goatee scrape against my skin. To have the right to caress and explore his lean, muscular body. To run my tongue across the outline of his tattoos. Want to taste his lips. Feel ravaged by his kisses. To have _his_ hand - _not_ mine - tightly wrapped around my cock and covered with my cum. And to see his dark eyes smoulder with passion ... with need. Just for me. _Only_ for me ...

Just want to make him crave me as desperately as I do for him. To feel him take me in any way which pleases him.

I draw my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around my knees, before resting my head upon my forearms. The thought of his hard length pounding relentlessly within me, makes me moan huskily with need and I wish that he was here with me. Now. His arms wrapped around me. Gentle. Yet possessive. His midnight coloured hair, silver at the temples, as slick as a sealion's pelt. I want to see his obsidian eyes soften as he feels my fingers tentatively skim across the scars on his handsome face, before he suddenly lowers his head to kiss me once more, with a fiery passion that blows me away.

I shiver slightly. Not from the cold. But from desire. It rages within me. Courses like wildfire through my veins. It consumes me. Frightens me. Leaves me in awe as I've _never_ felt this way about anyone before.

And I feel guilty. Ashamed that these emotions aren't caused by Tara, a woman who loves me with all of her heart. Remorseful that a man, a good friend of mine - someone I value and trust - _is_ the cause of it all. One who is entirely oblivious to the depths of my true feelings towards him. And one who would probably seriously blow a gasket if he ever found out how much I crave him. I sigh softly, knowing no good will ever come of wanting someone who I cannot have. As well as the pain that Tara would suffer if she were to discover that I want someone else, more than her. Slowly, I rise to my feet and turn off the shower, before wrapping a warm, thick, black towel around my lean hips. I stare blindly at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and wearily rub my eyes with the thumb and forefinger of my right hand, before dragging it slowly down my face over my bearded chin.

Sighing once more, I slowly shake my head regretfully and mutter huskily to myself, " Fuck ! Chibs, you damn Scottish crow ... Why _can't _I feel this way about Tara ? Why the hell did I have to go and fall for you, you bastard ... ? "

**Finis**


End file.
